Harry feels drained.
This is all just too much. He can't do this anymore, he just wants it to end. He wants to be happy, and breaking up with Francis is so complicated. Everything is always complicated. His mind is spinning, trying to figure out several things.
First, what does he want for himself? He wants peace and happiness, but he knows for that to happen he will most likely cry again, at least once more.
Second, does he want to be with Louis? Yes, is the answer, he does. He definitely knows he doesn't want to be with Francis anymore. How someone can treat him like shit like that, and Harry never even noticed before, is weird. Harry feels near tears at the thought of that alone.
That he's not sure if he would even have realised it if there hadn't been the constant comparison of Louis doing everything he ever needed, without being asked to. The comparison of someone else knowing him more than Francis ever did. And understanding him, and actively showing that he does. He doesn't know if he would have gotten enough self respect together to break it with Francis if there hadn't been Louis.
Third, he doesn't know if he fell in love with Louis again, or if it just never really went away. After all, he'd still been foolishly in love with him when he got together with Francis, already an unhealthy start of the relationship he now so desperately wants to get out of. He doesn't know if him falling in love once more just covered up the love he still had for Louis, so that it was less noticeable when he forced himself to stop thinking about the man. Or maybe it replaced it.
Harry doesn't even really care, he knows that he loved Francis but doesn't anymore, and he knows that he loved Louis for the better half of his life, and does right now. If there is a still or an again, doesn't really matter to him.
Adding to that is the crisis about what exactly he wants to do now.
He wants to break up with Francis, that is for sure.
But he doesn't know what to do then. He could go to him mum's, seek the comfort of his family and the people who know him inside out. He could stay there and make a plan for his future, find a university to finish his started studying.
But he could also go to Louis and seek the comfort of love. Someone who knows him, maybe even more than his family does. The person who has been his favourite for most of his life.
He doesn't want to seem invading, but Louis hinted on multiple occasions that the big house all alone makes him sad, and he obviously likes Harry's company just as much as it is the other way around, when he has never done anything but welcome Harry into his home.
Hell, he allowed Harry to shape his home like that, Harry knows where everything is in drawers and he knitted most of the pillows on the couch. It is basically already theirs, not only Louis'.
Still, Harry knows if he stayed with Louis, something will happen, and while he definitely wants it to happen, he doesn't know if he, for himself, should take a break from commitment for a while. Get his head around who he wants to be, maybe go traveling like Louis did.
It's just that. He wants Louis.
He wants to be with him, he wants him, all of him. He wants that life, that they could have had if they never broke up and fixed his grandparents' house together like they planned to in the first place. He's in love with Louis, and he really can't wait any longer. Just that he has to, because he's still fucking engaged.
Speaking of the devil:
I'll land in two hours
That's all the text says, and Harry barely glances at his phone. He quickly reads the words, scoffs, and turns his attention back to his book. Because seriously, who does this man think he is? He's fighting with Harry in front of his whole family, disrespected and insulted him several times, left without any explanation, texted like three times in one and a half weeks, and now thinks he can just come back like nothing happened.
Harry is sick of it. He just turns his phone around and turns the page of his book, trying to calm his emotions and focus on his favourite Jane Austen piece of art. Just that the page he just turns is the page that is missing in his own copy, that is still there in the one Louis gave him on Christmas Eve.
It's the page the notes were tucked in. The notes that might have turned Harry's world around twice with merely words. Hand-written words from the bottom of Louis' heart.
Harry's eyes fly over it, quickly focusing on one line that is only slightly underlined with a pencil. Harry has to read it five times at least, until he is able to take in what it says. When he does, he feels his heartbeat stopping.
If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.
That's all. That's what Louis underlined in the book he used for the last love confession he gave Harry. Harry lets out a shaky breath, staring at the wall for a few seconds until he slams the book shut, scrambles out of his bed and runs down the stairs. He's breathing heavily by the time he arrives downstairs at the door, slips into his shoes because it's raining, grabs his keys and opens the door.
If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.
Harry wants to talk about it, he wants to hear it and he wants to say it. God, he wants Louis. He wants to be loved, by Louis. And apparently, Louis does. So Harry really wants to get that clear now.
He runs the few steps over to Louis' house, almost jumping up the porch. Harry goes through his hair with one hand as he takes a few deep breaths. What does he even want to do? He wants to love Louis. He wants to ask him what the fuck he means with that. If I loved you less. Fucking hell. He wants to talk to him, hear him say it. He needs to hear it and he needs to answer and he needs to kiss Louis and hold him and love him. He wants to kiss him. His world is spinning, one endless circle of Louis' name and Louis' eyes in front of his face. Love.
So Harry removes his hands from his face, breathing in and out deeply while he presses the small button of the doorbell. He hears the sound from inside, his heart off on a rollercoaster while he waits, tapping his foot impatiently. He waits and waits, fingers freezing slightly where they're fiddling with the hem of his hoodie.
Louis doesn't open the door.
Harry's heart doesn't seem to calm down, and he really needs to talk to him. Maybe Louis is listening to music, maybe he's showering. Maybe he's just doing something important and didn't hear the door bell. Harry huffs out a grey cloud of air as he turns around and grabs the small plant pot that is in a corner of the porch, lifting it up and grabbing the key underneath.
It's absolutely cliche and Harry scolded Louis for it when he watched him place it there while they decorated the front porch, but now he's glad Louis has such little senses for safety. Harry's hands shake as he tries to unlock the door, succeeding after several tries. He pushes it open and walks into the hallway, suddenly hesitant. During the last weeks, he's been here more than in his own house, but he never walked in alone. He closes the door slowly and toes off his shoes, putting the key onto the small table next to the door.
"Louis?" He calls out with a quivering voice.
This is the point where everything will change, he concludes. Openly asking Louis about it, sober and clear-minded. It has to change. If it changes for the better, he might end up tangled with Louis, wrapped as close to his body as physically possible, if it changes for the worse, he will be crying again. So this might mean all or nothing.
Not getting a response, Harry tries two more times to say Louis' name loudly, before he walks into the living room slowly. It's cold, no Louis in sight, no Clifford in sight. They're probably out for a walk.
Harry immediately notices where the freezing breeze comes from, one of the windows is slightly ajar. His eyes widen slightly as he sees the rain almost reaching the piano where it's being blown into the room by the almost-storm outside. So Harry quickly walks over to the window and closes it, slowly checking if everything is alright or if he should get a towel to dry the floor. He doesn't get to that, though, because scattered over the wooden beams of the floor are paper pages.
They seem like they're from a notebook, all ruled in the same way and ripped out on the left side. Harry furrows his brows as he sees Louis' handwriting filling out most of the pages, some of them are slightly wet from the rain. So Harry quickly bends down and picks them up, placing them with the others on the reflecting black surface of the piano.
He's just about to ignore them and keep going with his Louis' finding mission, because he wants to respect his privacy, when something catches his attention. The other pieces of paper are neatly folded on the top of the piano in a stack, it seems like the three on the floor were blown down with the wind. Harry knows he shouldn't look closer, god knows what they are, but the thing is... There is his name staring back at him, challenging him.
They might be poems, maybe songs, Harry isn't sure. All he's sure of is that his throat clogs up as he looks through them, feeling guilty but not able to stop. There is verse after verse, and it just gets worse as Harry goes on.
Should be laughing but there's something wrong, and it hits me when the lights go on. Shit, maybe I miss you.
It's been two years since I've seen your face.
Never thought that giving up could be so hard, god I'm missing you and your addictive heart.
We were too young, to know we had everything, too young, I wish I could have seen it all along.
No, you don't have to keep on being strong for me and you, acting like you feel no pain you know I know you do.
It's been ages, different stages.
I'm wasting my time when it was always you.
A suit and tie, a second love, now I'm not saying that you could have done better, just remember that I, I've seen that fire alight.
You don't have a thing to prove.
Tell me do you still remember feeling young?
I'm too tired to be tough, just wanna be loved by you.
I'll always need you.
Harry has tears in his eyes once more by the time he gets to the last page. His hands are shaking and his heart has dropped into his pants by now. The last one is definitely a letter.
You make me happy, even though you are the reason why I'm sad. And what do you do when the only person you want to make you stop crying, is the person who made you cry? You make me cry, but it's not your fault. I know you don't mean to, just that sometimes when I look at you, I get flashbacks from things I don't want to remember, because it's impossible right now.
It's impossible to want you, still, I can't stop. Sometimes, when I look at you, you make all the clouds in me start raining, but I can't look away. I'll gladly take raining clouds, because looking at you resembles sunshine.
My mum once told me, if it still makes you cry, it still matters. And fuck, you still matter. You make me spend hours writing down lyrics and matching them with slow, pathetically sad piano chords, because I'm looking for a way to get the words out that I can't say.
And I believe that maybe, some day, there comes a morning where we are together and it feels like we're not both falling apart anymore. I believe that it can happen, maybe that's naive, but I don't think I ever could give up, is the thing. I know I might be waiting for something that isn't going to happen, but I'm holding on. Maybe that is the problem.
The problem is, that even after a broken promise and a broken heart you're still the only one I want.
After everything I just want to be with you, Harry.
Harry stares at the hand written words, breathlessly. What.
If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.
That's it, that's what it means. He can't talk about it, because he still loves Harry. He told him on new years, that he didn't manage to get over him. He's still in love with him, and instead of talking, he wrote poems, songs, whatever they are. Louis still loves Harry. Louis tried and failed to get over Harry.
If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.
You are the love of my life.
It never changed. Harry still is, and always was, the love of Louis' life. It's clear in these words, in all the things Louis has done for Harry while Harry is still engaged, it's clear in his eyes. With everything he has done for Harry while Harry broke his heart everyday by not being his and the ring on his finger very visible, reminding him that Harry was someone else's.
Louis loves Harry. And Harry loves Louis, too.
He can have this. The life. The happiness. He can have peace.
He can be with Louis.
After everything, I just want to be with you, Harry.
Harry brings his hand up to his mouth and sits down on the couch, just staring at the floor and calming his breathing down for a few seconds, trying to grasp what he just found out. That's when he hears the front door opening. Next, he hears Clifford barging in with his claws scrambling over the hardwood floor, Louis is quiet for some time, probably having found the shoes that aren't his next to the door.
"Harry?" He asks hesitantly, and Harry turns his head to him when Louis walks into the living room, taking off his gloves and coat.
"Hi" Is all Harry can get out, getting up from the couch. Louis smiles warmly, hanging up the coat while Harry walks towards him. He freezes when Harry pulls him in for a hug, wrapping his arms around him tightly.
"Are you okay?" He asks quietly, hugging back and slowly stroking Harry's arms and back. Always so comforting. Always home. "What happened?"
"I'm okay" Harry whispers, pulling back. He swallows hard and Louis furrows his brows, pulling him towards the couch to sit down. "I just want to be happy" Harry confesses after a little while, scooting closer to Louis. "You make me happy"
"What?" Louis asks, so quietly it's almost just a whisper.
"You've always made me happy, Louis" With that, Harry slowly leans closer.
You are the love of my life.
"What are you doing?" Louis whispers, his breath already hitting Harry's face. He's not pulling away.
"Louis" Harry mumbles, closing his eyes.
Louis shakes his head slightly, "No"
"Yes"
"No... Harry" Louis gently puts his hands on Harry's cheek to prevent him from leaning in even closer, to prevent him from kissing him. Harry shuts his eyes tightly and fights the tears.
"I'm sorry" Louis lets out with a broken voice, "But I will not help you cheating" Harry breathes in deeply, and Louis leans his forehead against his. "I really don't want to say it, but I have to. If you want to be with me, you have to break up with him"
Harry takes a shaky inhale, bottom lip quivering. "Do you want to be with me?"
"Yes" Louis says immediately, hands softly caressing Harry's cheeks. "Of course I do" He gently puts distance between their faces, only a few inches, Harry opens his eyes, seeing exactly what he didn't want to see, suffering pain over Louis features.
"But... you can't expect me to do this. Be your sidekick or whatever" Louis slowly shakes his head, looking down. "I've waited, the whole time. I've waited years and now I've waited months more, seeing you with him every day and watching you cry because of him. I know how miserable you are, don't you think that breaks my heart enough? I can't be happy with just a part of you, I need you completely and you know that. You can't honestly expect me to have spent the last ten years of my life being unbelievably in love with you and nothing but loyal to you, just to be your entertainment when Francis isn't around"
That pangs in Harry's chest and he shakes his head, throat constricting. "You're not entertainment"
"You're not being fair Harry" Louis whispers, hands shaking as they hold on to Harry's cheeks. "Not to me, and not to yourself. You know that you want to leave him, not only for me, but for yourself too. You don't love him. Why are you still with him?"
"Because I can't just-"
"Yes, you can" Louis insists. "This is not the sixties, you already took off his ring, I saw it. You can tell him it's over"
"Stop pressuring me" Harry pulls back slightly, away from Louis' soft touch.
His hands fall into his lap. "If you choose to stay with him, then don't try to kiss me. Francis doesn't deserve that, and above all, I don't deserve that after everything, after every day I've put myself second for you. If you want me, you need to break up with him"
Harry gets up abruptly, startling both Clifford and Louis. He wipes over his eyes, trying to get rid of the tears that haven't even escaped yet. "Do you love me?"
Louis gets up too and looks at him sadly. "Harry-"
"Alright" Harry interrupts him. "I'll be back"
Before Louis can reply, Harry turns around and leaves.
~
Harry sits alone in the dark of the living room, waiting for his fiancé to come back, so that he can break up with him. It's cold and dark, almost scary with the shadows of hard surfaces on the wall, threatening Harry. He doesn't feel at home here, this was never his. Illuminating his room, is the screen of his phone when Louis texts him. He swallows and picks it up, reading the message.
I'm sorry for pressuring you, I know this is a big thing to do, take your time.
He's so understanding, he's always understanding. What Harry did was a mistake, he knows that. He shouldn't have done that, it was wrong. He just wants it to be easy, but there is no easy way to be happy. He needs to make a sacrifice, and that's what he's doing right now.
If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.
Harry is just about to reply, when he hears the front door open. Next thing he knows, the light is switched on, Francis standing in the doorway with a duffel bag handing off his shoulder, coat and all still on.
"Hi" He says dryly. "What are you doing in the dark like that?"
"Please sit down" is all Harry replies, scooting over to make room for him. Francis furrows his brows as Harry's insistent tone, dropping his bag onto the floor and taking off his coat. He swings it over the back of the couch as he walks over, sitting down next to Harry with some distance between them.
"What's up?"
"This doesn't work" Harry gets right to the point, because he's not really keen on asking Francis how his time was, who he fucked or who he got drunk with. He doesn't care anymore.
Francis doesn't even seem surprised, just nods slowly.
"And I don't think it will" Harry goes on, looking down at his hands.
"You're breaking up with me, aren't you?" Francis asks, and Harry looks up. The man just nods towards his hands. "You took off the ring"
"Look" Harry says and swallows, scooting closer. "This is not a healthy relationship anymore, I know you really put your whole mind into work and that's great, but it just doesn't fit with my needs. You're practical, I'm emotional, and I don't see how that could ever work together"
Francis nods, finally, finally actually listening to Harry.
"I know you're not happy with this either"
"I knew it" Francis scoffs, leaning back. "You're fucking Louis, aren't you?"
"Please stop" Harry shakes his head. "It's not about Louis, it's about us"
"Oh, but it is about Louis" Francis says, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Ever since he moved in next door, you wanted to dump my ass. It's his fault"
"No" Harry says sharply, getting up. "It is your fault, Francis. You've done nothing to appreciate me for some time now, you tolerated what I did for you, you never loved me for it. I've kept doing it long enough, because I thought it might just be a phase of you overworking yourself, but that doesn't seem to be it, so I need to do this step for myself now, because this is not working for me"
Francis hums and nods. Then he clicks his tongue and gets up as well. "We can talk about this again when you calmed down"
"I am calm" Harry says coldly. "And I'm breaking up with you"
"Alright" Francis rolls his eyes. "Tell me that again when you'll be crawling back to me in a few days"
Harry scoffs. "If that is what you think of this relationship, take a step back and rethink, please"
"Whatever" Francis walks past him, grabbing is coat. "I'm gonna stay at Spencer's, so you can calm down in peace"
Spencer. It was Spencer. Harry should have seen it coming. The thing is, he doesn't even care anymore.
"Fuck you" he mumbles, watching Francis grab his car keys.
He turns around when he has already opened the door, looking at Harry with a cold expression. "You should grow up, Harry. You're an emotional wreck, good luck finding someone who's willing to put up with that"
I have someone who's willing to put up with that, someone who is supportive. Harry wants to say, but he just bites his lip and stays quiet.
He watches as Francis walks out, getting into his car and sparing one last glance at Harry before he closes the door and drives off.
Harry watches the clouds on the dark sky pull together before it starts raining, and he stays at the opened front door for a while longer, fingers fiddling with his empty ring finger. He freezes, shivers and feels lost, somehow.
That's when the fourth tear rolls down his cheek, painfully quiet.
He broke hearts today, Louis' and Francis'. Exactly what he wanted to avoid, he hurt both of them, and himself the most. Tears pour down both of Harry's cheeks at once, his upper lip trembling and his nostrils sucking air in, a heavy sound released into the dark of the night.
Even with his wet, wavy vision, he can see Louis' face, in his mind. Louis hugging him, Louis wiping away his tears. It's a fading vision, Louis being there for Harry the whole time.
Now, Harry knows that every day they spent time together he was hurting him, because the whole time, Louis loved Harry. And Harry, oblivious to that, went crying to him when he was feeling bad, when Francis made him sad. He feels like he used Louis, and Louis went with it because he loves Harry. He feels horrible for what he did, he wants to take it back. He wants nothing more than to apologise.
But first, he needs to do something else.
Harry eventually walks back into the house with shivering arms, closing the door and sitting down on the couch once more. He unlocks his phone and taps on Gemma's contact.
"Hi, love, what's up?"
"I broke up with him"